


A Bouquet of Love

by Liepe



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (but not for long), Angst with a Happy Ending, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Unrequited Love, flower symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 06:29:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17095568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liepe/pseuds/Liepe
Summary: Yamaguchi had been coughing up flowers for three years, and he figured he would be doing it for the rest of his life.Now available in Pусский:Букет любвиbyKsanze. Can be readhereas well.





	A Bouquet of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Last fic of the year! I’m so glad I managed to write this one before the year was up. I’m kinda proud of it but also a bit unsure. Oh well, it was fun. Enjoy! (ps: This is unbeta'd, so all mistakes are my own. Also I got the flower symbolism's from here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Plant_symbolism)

The first time that it happened, it was one of the most terrifying moments of 13 year old Yamaguchi’s life.

He was bent over the school toilet and feeling like he swallowed something the wrong way, but eternally doing so. Chest heaving and aching as the most awful coughing took over. His throat burned from the exertion and tears ran down as he tried to push anything out.

Finally, something gave way and it was like the flood gates had open. Petals, white and flat and huge, came heaving out. Yamaguchi coughed them up as fast as he could, just to be able to get a chance to breath. But as soon as those ones left, more were quick to come, falling gracelessly into the toilet with dull splosh.

Yamaguchi started noticing through bleary eyes that purple petals had joined the white ones. These ones were smaller, a bit more pointed. They were easier to handle than the suffocating white ones and were soon the only ones left to bring up, their silky texture tacky on his tongue.

Once he felt the majority of them were out, the last few cling to his throat. His chest ached viciously with effort to get rid of the dreadful things as he stared into the toilet with horror.

He quickly flushed the evidence away, terrified about what it all meant because he never heard of anyone coughing up flowers.

Yamaguchi contemplated asking Tsuki, because surly if anyone knew, it would be Tsuki. But thinking of his friend made his throat tighten and the sickly sweet smell of flowers stung the back of his mouth, he immediately decided that he wasn’t going to tell Tsuki about this.

That didn’t stop Yamaguchi from immediately telling his mother about it as soon as he got home, needing to know he hadn’t gone mad.

The pitying look his mom gave him after she deciphered his panicked speech made Yamaguchi almost wished he had gone mad.

It was called the Hanahaki Disease, she had explained, stroking Yamaguchi’s hair with tenderness. It happened when a person’s love was unrequited. It wasn’t uncommon but rather it wasn’t discussed, because no one wanted to bring up the tragic topic of not being loved back.

She whispered apologies and comforts as Yamaguchi clung to her in shock, wondering how this could happen.

The next day she handed him a bottle of pills with a strained smile.

**OoO**

The flowers never went away.

The tablets helped a bit. It decreased the amount of times Yamaguchi lent over the toilet, from five times a day to two times if he was careful.

It got to the point where Yamaguchi knew the names of every petal he coughed up, and their corresponding meanings:

White carnations ( _pure love, faithfulness_ ), purple lilacs ( _first emotion of love_ ), gardenias ( _secret love_ ), mallows ( _consumed by love_ ).

Lately it had been narcissus ( _unrequited love, selfishness_ ) and Love lies bleeding ( _hopelessness_ ). They’d been the hardest ones to keep control over and the most painful to endure, their bitter taste engulfing Yamaguchi’s mouth.

It was no surprise who the cause of all this was. The moment his mom told him about the disease, it was obvious. But even knowing Tsuki was the reason why his chest ached and why he couldn’t stand flower shops, he couldn’t bear to do anything that would disrupt their friendship.

So he hid the flowers from his best friend, holding his coughs for when he was at school or when he left Tsuki’s house, well out of range of the blond. The hardest were weekends, and sometimes even the medication couldn’t keep the limit of the flowers down when he gets a text from Tsuki asking him to come over because he was bored. It was pathetic.

Sleepovers were the worst. Yamaguchi would most times try and avoid them: Mom says I need to be home before dinner, I have to go someplace really early tomorrow, I don’t want to intrude. But sometimes he stayed foolishly late playing video games or Tsuki’s mom kind face will guilt him into staying.

And sometimes, he was just selfish and wanted to stay by Tsuki’s side a little bit longer. He can understand why the narcissus were appearing.

On those nights, it was the hardest to hide the coughs and the loose petals. Yamaguchi tried to hold them in for as long as possible, till they were clawing up his throat and tears were prickling at the corner of his eyes. When he couldn’t any more he would pick times when Tsuki was too engross by his phone or concentrating on homework.

Tsuki asked if Yamaguchi had stomach problems. Yamaguchi instantly took the scapegoat that Tsuki neatly provided, as embarrassing as it was. It was a lot better than saying he was coughing up flowers every time their hands so much as brush or when Tsuki smiled at him.

**OoO**

After so many years, Yamaguchi had perfected the routine.

So it was very surprising to find petals of morning glories ( _love in vain_ ) and yellow chrysanths ( _precious one_ ) in the bathroom at Tsuki’s house. Yamaguchi had always been careful with the flowers, thoroughly checking the bathroom and his clothes for any loose petals and pieces.

So to find those, and ones that Yamaguchi hadn’t had yet, was startling. It made an idea form in Yamaguchi’s head, an awful, terrible, stupidly hopeful and unrealistic idea.

It was a risk. A massive one with devastating results if Yamaguchi was the slightest bit wrong. He could lose everything he worked so hard to keep.

But if he was right, even for a moment, well. It was a risk he was willing to take.

So with shaky hands from nerves of what he was going to do, but with a resolve to actually go through with it, he walked back into Tsuki’s room, holding a single petal of the yellow chrysanth up.

Tsuki was lying on his bed, lazily scrolling through Instagram, not acknowledging Yamaguchi’s return. It gave Yamaguchi an easy out, all he would have to do was shove the petal in his pocket and forget the whole thing. Let the hope he felt blaze at seeing the flowers on the bathroom floor putter out and go back to normal.

Even though Yamaguchi nerves were begging him to do just that, he stood his ground and took in a shaky breath.

“Tsuki,” he said, and if his voice wavered a bit in strength, well, he didn’t let that stop him. “I found this in the bathroom.” Yamaguchi brought his hand up higher in demonstration.

Tsuki hummed in acknowledgment to the words and he turned towards Yamaguchi, half his attention still on the screen. Yamaguchi watched his face closely and so he saw the exact moment Tsuki registered the petal gripped tightly between his fingers.

The shutters came down immediately after, masking any emotions on his face to passive politeness, but Yamaguchi saw the shock and panic. It was enough for Yamaguchi to carry on.

“Is it yours?”

Tsuki studied the flower so calmly that Yamaguchi would have thought he imagined the earlier unease if he hadn’t been watching his friend closely. He could see Tsuki’s hand tighten around his phone but gave no other signs of distressed.

“No.”

Yamaguchi expected the answer but it still stung to hear Tsuki say what he’d been dreading most. His shoulders sagged with the weight of crushing disappointment and embarrassment for what he had hoped for fiercely before.

“It’s my brother’s,” Tsuki continued, turning his attention back to his phone and effectively dismissing the conversation.

And it would have worked. Yamaguchi would have easily swallowed that explanation. In fact, he was whole heatedly about to, to stuff the petal in his pocket, to make some lame excuse and get away from Tsuki and this terrible situation he created. He could feel the petals making their way up his throat again, even though he had just been to get rid of them, their instance to be let out making this situation even worse.

But something niggled in the back of Yamaguchi’s mind, something that gave him a bit of a pause. Tsuki’s mother was complaining a week ago about how Akiteru was hardly ever at home because of college and his studies but at least he was coming home for the holidays, before telling Yamaguchi that Tsuki was in his room as always.

So it didn’t make sense that Tsuki’s brother was the one coughing up flowers since he hadn’t been home for a month. It hurt that Tsuki felt the need to lie to Yamaguchi about this, but well, he had been lying to Tsuki for three years.

That was about to change.

With shaky confidence, Yamaguchi made a confession he thought he would never make.

“I’ve had the Hanahaki Disease for three years.”

That got Tsuki’s attention immediately, turning his head quickly towards Yamaguchi. Yamaguchi stared at those shocked eyes and continued.

“I’ve been coughing up flowers for three years and it sucks. I can’t stand the smell of flowers anymore and I dread every cough might bring them up. So please Tsuki, I need to know. Is this yours?”

Yamaguchi thrust the single yellow chrysanth towards Tsuki. It was gripped so tightly in Yamaguchi’s quivering hand that the petal was beginning to break.

“No, it’s yours.”

And that cut deeper than anything could. That Tsuki would turn his confession, all his fears and anxiety and insecurities, against him. To put the blame of the flowers firmly on him. It was cruel, the cruellest thing anyone had done to Yamaguchi, made even more so since it was Tsuki who did it.

The sensation of flowers that have been determinedly trying to come up finally succeeded. He put his hands to his mouth in a stupid attempt to keep them at bay, dropping the chrysanth and just let the wave of petals and despair hit him.

“Shit, no, that’s not-” But Yamaguchi didn't register Tsuki’s words, kneeling on the floor as his legs couldn’t support him and bringing up wave after wave of flowers. Tears ran down as he battled to breath and every time he did his nose stung with that awful sweet smell. His lungs burned with each cough and all he could do was wish for it to stop.

When it did, Yamaguchi wished that it didn’t, as he looked at the carnage around him. Marigolds ( _pain and grief_ ), peonies ( _shame_ ) and yellow roses ( _a broken heart_ ) littered the floor. It was pathetic. He was pathetic, thinking for even a second Tsuki had returned his feelings in some way. He could now see how disillusioned he was and the flowers agreed. He gave a hiccuped sob at what a mess he was.

“Here.” A tissue appeared in his peripheral and Yamaguchi grabbed it, coughing a few stay petals into it and feeling like he was going to hurl. He couldn’t bear to look at Tsuki’s disgusted face, his disappointment in him as a friend and the feelings he’s been harbouring for three pitiful years.

Yamaguchi should run, get away as quickly as he can. Quit volleyball, move to a different school, even move to a different city. Anything to get away from the devastation he caused, but his legs refused to move, his body too weak from the worst experience he's had with these wretched flowers. All he could do was stare unseeingly at the chaos and wait for Tsuki to kick him out.

“Yellow chrysanths means precious one,” came Tsuki voice, close and uncharacteristically soft. “I had to look it up last night, which was a pain to do, but the meaning made sense.”

Tsuki hand came into view, searching the ground. Yamaguchi watched, not registering what Tsuki was talking about or doing. He wished Tsuki would put him out of his misery but he didn’t have the strength to prompt the blond. So he just let the whole mess drag out.

Eventually Tsuki found what he was looking for, the single, crumpled chrysanth, hidden under all the other petals.

Tsuki gently took the tissue out of Yamaguchi’s lose grip and placed the flower in the center of his palm. Yamaguchi stared at it, incomprehensibly.

“It’s yours. You’re the precious one. That’s what I meant.”

Yamaguchi head shot up. Tsuki looked embarrassed and afraid, but more importantly, earnest. That was what made Yamaguchi finally pay attention to his words. “And I’m sorry that I made you feel otherwise.” He glanced at the flowers and Yamaguchi swallowed, painfully aware how exposed he was. He didn’t know if Tsuki knew the turn meaning of them, but just their presence was enough to paint a miserable picture.

“It started yesterday,” Tsuki continued. “The flowers. Right after you sent the picture of you finishing a game with too many emojis added. Before I could tell you how ridiculous you were, that of course you would make it, I was coughing up those.”

Tsuki’s face scrunched up in disgust, glaring down at the chrysanth. Yamaguchi shared the same sentiment, looking at it as well, and he was sorry Tsuki had to suffer even one day with the disease.

“I can’t imagine doing it for three years.”

Yamaguchi tensed at the reminder, hunching in on himself in shame. Tsuki was right, three years was a ridiculous amount of time for someone to have the Hanahaki Disease. Yamaguchi should have given up, detach himself from Tsuki and try get over his feelings, but he was selfish, refusing to let go, and now he didn’t know what was happening. Everything felt like it was going too fast and too slow at the same time, all a tangled mess that Yamaguchi couldn’t where to begin.

His only salvation was that Tsuki was still there, sitting across from him. Close enough that if Yamaguchi shifted forward they would touch but far enough to not feel overwhelming. For whom? Who knows, but Yamaguchi latched onto that fact desperately.

He felt cold finger tips touch the sides of his face, hesitant and barely there but sure enough to guide Yamaguchi’s head up. He stared into Tsuki’s intense gaze.

“Thank you for waiting this long for me to catch up.”

Tsuki let out an ‘oof’, just managing to catch Yamaguchi’s weight as he launched himself into Tsuki’s lap. It was uncomfortable, with flowers sticking everywhere and both of them nearly falling over. But it was perfect, with Tsuki’s one arm around him to hold him steady, as the other held their weight from behind. It was perfect because Tsuki wasn’t disgusted or ashamed, he wasn’t going to kick Yamaguchi out or shout at him or tease him. Tsuki thought he was precious, and that was enough to ease Yamaguchi’s worries.

He buried his head into Tsuki’s shoulder and gripped his shirt at the back. Thinking over everything, there was something else that needed to be said.

“It’s not in vain,” he muttered into Tsuki’s neck.

Tsuki hummed in question.

Yamaguchi’s voice was hoarse and sore, protesting against every syllable, but Tsuki needed to know this. So he said louder, “Morning glory, the other flower I found in the bathroom. It means love in vain but it’s not. It never was.”

Tsuki brought both his hands arm and held Yamaguchi closer. “I know.” He couldn't see Tsuki's face, but he could hear the smile in his voice. It warmed Yamaguchi and he grinned into Tsuki's shoulder.


End file.
